Crazy

I thought, perhaps, I was done with this diary. I didn’t need people to get inside my head anymore, there was nothing left for anyone to figure out for me.  I had no hopes of past loves stumbling across confessions of change or news of moving on.  I didn’t want her knowing about my life, I didn’t want him finding reasons to be jealous.  It’s ironic, it seems now that I’m at the same place I was when I started this journal, and the only person who would understand what that means is the one person who will condemn me for it.  Maybe the inability to change over five years does make me crazy, who knows. I’m a villian, but only in my mind, not my heart.  I am not a bad person, I love, and I have gifts that most of my friends have yet to discover.  And yet they stay hidden, unable to be accessed because of this wicked mind of mine, this mind unable to control its actions though able to justify anything. People walk in and out of my life, and yet I am alone.  I have always been alone, except for those few magic months at the beginning of high school when my soul was complete.  Immaturity lost me  that bond, and  now I stand alone, without a heart to give, nevermind a soul to share.  So my latest love has ended.  I never betray men because I don’t love them, but because no matter what I do I am always alone.  Always, and I would do anything to find that bond I crave more than anything else.  Even God ceases to accompany me, as I am to afraid to aknowledge him due to the blackness of my sins.  There are moments when love seems the greatest of all, and there are moments when it is just a word, a meaningless choice that reminds me I walk the world by myself. One man claims I am the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, and would do anything for me.  Another calls me beautiful despite my sins against him, and a third person compares me to Aphrodite.  If I am truly so beautiful, they why do I have no strength?

With Apologies for the Emotional and Disjointed Rant,

Poetic Badger